


Wounds That Heal

by Tierfal



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/pseuds/Tierfal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy's never had a brother, but he's had more than his share of hurt, and maybe that's enough for him to give what Ed won't ask for.</p>
<p>[Pretty immediately post-Brotherhood.  Beware spoilers!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounds That Heal

**Author's Note:**

> For Eltea. <3 And not just because she always lets me RP Roykins, hahaha. <3

Ed is sitting alone in the white hallway when Roy arrives, and the kid looks like shit. His hair’s coming out, his face is filthy, and it’s quite clear from the swathes of violet under his eyes that he hasn’t slept and doesn’t plan to.

This is virtually déjà vu, not so much because Roy’s seen this situation before, but because he _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would when he turned into the hall.

He knew, when he heard that the newly-restored Alphonse Elric had collapsed on the grassiest of Central’s training grounds and had been rushed to the hospital, that it would have been during one of the familiar brotherly sparring sessions. He knew that the cause would have been some combination of exhaustion and heatstroke and dehydration, because Alphonse isn’t used to caring for a body that has needs. And he knew, with utmost certainty, that Edward would shoulder every fragment of the blame.

With Al unconscious, there’s no one to stop him, and he looks like he’s about to shatter under the weight.

Roy sits down on the metal bench, which is even colder and more uncomfortable than he expected. How long has Ed been here? What was the time-stamp on that memo, again?

It doesn’t matter. What matters is figuring out whether he can fix it.

He thinks he probably has a better chance than most, because he’s been to that place—the personal hell Ed’s visiting. He’s well-acquainted with that infective desolation, which is why he has to try to find a cure.

He folds his arms and looks over at the boy beside him, who’s bent over with his elbows on his knees, hands clenched around each other, every line of him so taut that he’s almost shaking with the strain.

“I’m really not in the mood for an ‘I told you so,’” Ed says, but the edge to his voice is dull.

“Good,” Roy says calmly. “Neither am I.”

There’s a long silence.

“Alphonse is going to recover,” Roy says.

Ed’s shoulders tighten just a little more, which is kind of remarkable. He’s going to split in half at the spine in a minute.

“Are you a doctor now?” he mutters. “Differentiating, huh? Guess that’s good when you’re planning to run the place. I’d hate to have some hack as Führer again.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Roy says. “I’m a friend. It just sounded like you’d need one right now.”

For a moment it looks like Ed is going to rip Roy’s head off with his bare hands, but then something in him snaps, and instead of committing violent homicide, he pulls his knees up to his chest and starts to cry.

Roy puts a hand gently on his shoulder—the one that used to be steel; he’s still not quite accustomed to it being warm.

“All these years,” Ed is saying into his knees, muffled and wracked with sobs, scrubbing angrily at his eyes, “he’s helped me and looked after me and prevented me from killing anybody who calls me—you know—and kept me _sane_ , and the first time I get a chance to be a real older brother—the first time he’s able to be vulnerable again—”

“Fullmetal,” Roy says, “this isn’t your fault.”

“It is!” Ed is becoming progressively less intelligible. “How’s he supposed to remember? He probably doesn’t even remember what hunger feels like, probably just thought it was an abdominal cramp from practicing kicks, and _I’m supposed to_ —I just—”

“Edward,” Roy says, “you’re not even sixteen years old. You can’t be his brother, his father, his mother, and his keeper all at once, all the time, and hold yourself together as well. You make an extraordinarily admirable effort, but it’s just not possible. He’s going to have to learn how to take care of his new body, just as you, unfortunately, are going to have to learn how to live day-to-day without alchemy. Neither of you can tell the other how to go about doing that. All you can do is be there for each other along the way.” He wraps his arm around Ed’s shaking shoulders. “And you’re here.”

Ed’s face is buried in his folded arms. “That’s not enough.”

“Yes, it is.”

Ed looks up just enough for Roy to get a glimpse of a furious gold eye gleaming with tears. “Shut up! You don’t know anything!”

This is the most childish he has sounded in a long time. It’s kind of reassuring.

“Listen to me,” Roy says. “People get hurt. Human beings are fragile. That’s what makes them precious, so it’s a condition of life that we just have to accept. You must know by now that you won’t always be in the right place to protect him, and vice versa. You don’t begrudge him that, do you? And Alphonse is significantly more forgiving than you are, especially of the brother he will idolize until the day he dies.” He succeeds in suppressing a wince. “That’s a condition, too.”

“I hate hospitals,” Ed mumbles into his arms. “And waiting. And you.”

Roy knows very well that one of those things is not like the others.

“Hospitals are supremely unnerving,” he concedes. “But they serve their purpose.” He gives Ed’s back a last, slightly awkward pat. “Alphonse’s indisposition is fairly routine, you know. He’ll be back on his feet soon and fully recovered not long after that.”

Ed is silent for a long moment, which is uncanny and somewhat worrisome.

“He’s all I’ve got,” the boy says at last. “I can’t lose him—especially not now, when I gave up the only power I had to give this to him. I’m just—I’m just—” He swallows. “I’m just—scared—that I’m not strong enough to protect him anymore.”

Roy leaves his open hand on Ed’s back, hoping that it’s at least a little bit comforting.

“It was never your alchemy that kept your brother safe,” he says. “It was always the love, and that hasn’t changed.”

Ed starts to cry again, but Roy thinks it’s a good thing this time.

 

 

Just after four in the morning, a night nurse spots them and storms over, starting to hiss at them about visiting hours. But then she gets close enough to see the small constellation on the shoulder of Roy’s wrinkled uniform and the mounting fury in Ed’s eyes, at which point she sputters and changes her mind.

Turns out they’re welcome to stay as long as they like.

 

 

Not too long after the sun rises, the doctor returns and lets Ed back into his brother’s room. Roy gets up to stretch for the umpteenth time, but he doesn’t go in. He doesn’t need to in order to hear the tenor of the conversation, which is entirely positive, and then Al’s tentative voice, which is more promising still. Quite briefly it’s decided that Alphonse will be discharged and will finish recuperating under his brother’s supervision. It is also established that he has healed at a remarkable rate, apparently out of sheer willpower—which does not surprise Roy at all and, rather, makes him smile more than a bit.

Shortly (literally, in Ed’s case), the Elric brothers are emerging from the hospital room, Ed with his arm under Alphonse’s shoulders. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s because Al needs the support, or because Ed doesn’t want to let go of him; and Roy suspects it’s a bit of both.

“Oh!” Al says upon noticing Roy. It’s funny how they’d all grown familiar with _hearing_ the sunny smile that comes to him so naturally, such that seeing it as well proves almost blinding. “Colonel! I mean—Brigadier General, sorry. I didn’t know you were here. Were you keeping Brother company?”

“For a while,” Roy says.

Alphonse radiates so much warmth that Roy predicts he’ll be back in action within a matter of days. “Thank you!”

“Of course,” Roy says, and he meets Ed’s eyes as well.

Perhaps they’ve never gotten along, but they’ve always understood each other. Edward smiles, just a little, and very slightly inclines his head.

The two of them head down the hall after that, joined at the shoulder and the hip, Alphonse already chattering happily, all of the muscles in Ed’s back relaxed.

And Roy knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they’re going to be all right.


End file.
